If he was careful, and a little bit lucky, he would have the luxury of taking his time working his way to Canada. Or Mexico. He would have to think on that. He had originally figured he would go south, to get out of the cold. But that was perhaps too obvious. He had to start thinking with a contrarian point of view … do the opposite of what he should, or would, do.
After what he had done—especially after what he had done—the authorities would be looking for him en masse. Like death and taxes, that much was a given.
As he approached the shed, he could see it was more like a small barn—and the main house was larger than he had thought. He broke the rusted lock and pulled open the wooden door only enough to slide his body inside.
He winced at the creak of the hinge as he drew it closed behind him.
There was equipment of all kinds from what he could tell. Although there was a light switch on the wall where he had entered, he would not dare turn it on.
The homeowner was a handy guy, it seemed: he had an extensive assortment of tools mounted neatly on pegboards, with workbenches, drill presses, ladders … and a variety of power saws.
Marcks gathered up an old tarpaulin, scattered straw, and rags he had found in a lawn bag by the door. As he assembled his bed, the cold now penetrating down to the bone, he tried to think of a way to get close to Jasmine.
First he had to find her. He was sure she would not go back to her house. He knew she had left her old job. But where did she work now? He had no idea.
That presented a problem. Just as he began to feel like he was looking for a needle in a haystack—appropriate given where he was—he hit on an idea.
Yes, he thought. That’ll definitely work …
15
Vail arrived home thirty minutes late. After hanging up with Jasmine she called Robby and apologized, then told him she was en route. He took it in stride and was not surprised.
She ran into the house, looking frazzled, as if she had just come from a crime scene—which was not far from the truth.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Aside from Jonathan and Robby, DEA Special Agent Richard Prati and his son Ryan were seated in the family room. She stepped around the ottoman and stretched to shake their hands when Hershey pushed his way in to greet her. They all laughed as she cuddled his head in her left palm while extending her right toward Prati.
“Good to see you again, Karen. Working a case?”
“You heard about the escape of Roscoe Lee Marcks?”
“It’s all over the news,” Prati said.
“That’s mine. Working on a Marshals’ fugitive task force.” She turned to the nineteen-year-old. “Ryan, good to meet you.”
“Same here, Agent Vail.”
“Karen, please.” She leaned left and gave Jonathan a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Good. Just found out Ryan’s a Beta.”
Vail straightened up. “You pledged Beta too? What school are you at?”
“University of Florida. I’m in for a quick visit to see my parents, then it’s back at it.”
“I’m going to check on dinner,” Robby said. “Let’s go take a seat at the table.”
As they gathered up their drinks and walked into the dining room—which was meticulously set—Thank you, Robby—Vail asked, “What’s your major?”
Prati laughed. “Ryan has some pretty career-specific plans.”
“Following in your dad’s footsteps?”
“In a way. I’m going to join the Navy, see if I can hook on with the SEALs.”
“That’s a pretty demanding program. I know some former Special Forces guys if you want to talk to them. I’m sure I can get one or two to sit down with you.”
“That’d be cool.”
Prati placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Ryan’s already a certified advanced SCUBA diver, lettered in track, swimming, cross-country, wrestling, and lacrosse.”
“You’re kidding,” Vail said.
Robby poked his head out of the kitchen. “Actually, he’s not kidding. That’s one impressive young man.”
“No shit.”
“He’s also a licensed sky diver—”
“Dad,” Ryan said. “They get the picture.”
“I have the utmost respect for Special Forces,” Vail said.
Robby stepped in carrying a steaming tureen and gave her a look.
Okay, fine. I better shut up. I’m not supposed to talk about that stuff. “Jonathan’s taking fencing,” she said, changing the subject.
“Really?” Jonathan asked mockingly. “I’m taking a class in fencing? That’s supposed to be impressive?”
“Hey,” Robby said. “Don’t sell yourself short.” He elbowed Ryan. “Jonathan’s very good.”
“It’s something I’ve wanted to learn,” Ryan said. “You like it?”
“You need a lot of lower body and core strength—obviously that wouldn’t be a problem for you—and like any sport you’ve really got to practice a lot to be good. Things happen very fast, so you’re reacting instinctively rather than thinking. The more you do it, the better prepared you are to respond. If you’ve got to take a split second to think, you’re done.”
Ryan was nodding. “Definitely would like to get into that.”
“And how are things with DEA?” Vail asked as she took the casserole from Robby and set it in the center of the table.